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HIS FATHER'S SON 



A Farce Comedy in One Act 



BY HELLEN MORRISON HOWIE 
Author of ''After the Matinee/* ** The Reformer Reformed/' etc. 



Philadelphia 

The Penn Publishing Company 

.1900 



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Library of Congre^ss 

Two Copies RECEfvEo 
JUL 141900 

Copyright entry 

SECOND copy. 

Delivered to 

RDER DIVISION, 







Copyright 1900 by The Penn Publishing Company 



HIS FATHER^S SON 

CAST OF CHARACTERS 

JosiAH Smtthkins A Widower 

Joe His Only Son 

Miss Jane Ann Tubes JosialCs First Love 

Pearl • • • Her Niece 

Costumes Modern 

Time in Representation, One Hour 



HIS FATHER'S SON 



Scene — Cosy mid homelike interior, half difiing, half sit- 
ting- j^oom ; door in flat c, with transom ; another door 
in R. front ; directly opposite this doorway a fireplace 
L., with large wooden clock, photos and various objects 
{not of a fragile nature) on the mantelshelf; in Jro?it 
of the fireplace a table, with fa?icy cover, on which 
are placed some books, papers and a Japanese vase ; 
7iear the end of this table l. c. stands a tall folding 
screen ; partly under the table, at the opposite e?id from 
the screen and in view of the audience, there lies on the 
floor an envelope, such as are used in dry -goods stores, 
encasing a pair of black, silk stockings ; side-board R., 
sofa R. c, large easy chair and several smaller chairs 
disposed about the room. 

Smithkins {rushing breathlessly into the roovi, shutting 
the door with a slam, and locking it). Thank Heaven ! I've 
found a refuge at last ! Phew ! Maybe I didn't have to run 
for it ! Oh, that ungrateful boy ! To think he could so deceive 
a doting father! Haven't I confided to him my financial 
diflicultles ? Haven't I talked it into him all his life that he 
was expected to retrieve the lost fortunes of our noble 
house by marrying money ? And now— when he had only 
to say the word and win the heiress to old Huntley's thou- 
sands—he has gone and actually engaged himsell to a 
ballet-girl ! A flaunting, kicking, skipping, twisting, pirouet- 
ting hussy of a ballet-girl ! {Tragically) Fate ! late ! have 
you any harder blow in store for me, if so {throwing open 
his coat and slapping his breast), strike now, for after this I 
can bear anything ! Just to think how he has been foohng 
me all these months with his " Yes, Papa " {acccfit on the 
last syllable) and " No, Papa !" The young rascal! But my 
eyes are opened at last. To-day I received this anonymous 
letter. {Produces letter and reads aloud.) " Watch your 
boy. I know on very good authority diat he intends marry- 
ing a certain Mile. Rosa, a ballet dancer at the Criterion. 
Follow him when he leaves home to-day and you may see 
something that will open your eyes to the true character of 
your only son and heir. 

(Signed) " A friend and well-wisher. 



6 HIS FATHER S SON 

{Retiivjiing letter to his pockety Well, I followed — that 
is, for a while, but most of the time it seemed to me that I 
was running away from him. The young scamp would 
turn on his tracks as if he knew he was being shadowed 
and wanted to give as much trouble as possible. I thought 
I had found a safe retreat behind the door of this apart- 
ment house when, peek-a-boo, up he comes again, and this 
time not alone either, but accompanied by as pert-looking 
a bundle of dry-goods as you would wish to see — the ballet 
dancing minx of course ! They were making for this very 
house. I made for the stairs. And here I am hiding like 
a sneak thief in a strange apartment {looking about), per- 
haps, the abode of some chaste, lone female ! Awful 
thought ! The gods forbid ! {Lifts a book from the table, 
reads the title aloud) "How to Catch a Husband." Ah! 
'tis as I had feared ! No married woman would buy that 
book. She knows how to catch her husband, and she's 
always sure to catch him when he thinks he's safest. 
{Opens the book and reads aloud the written inscription on 
the title page.) " To Jane Ann, from a friend." I was once 
friendly with a Jane Ann myself. She was my first love. 
But a cruel father came between us. He put an end to the 
affair, and a head on me. Poor girl ! where is she now ? 
I wonder if she kept that piece of poetry I wrote her! 
{Recites) 

Come, Jane Ann, where the birdlets sing 
Sweet carols to the budding spring ; 

Come, Jane Ann, where the whispering breeze 
Murmurs love to the bending trees. 

Come ! and get a " gait-on," please, 
Before that crank, your father, sees ! 

Heigh-ho ! poor Jane Ann ! Josiah, my boy {shaki?ig his 
head)^y\n afraid you were a sad lady-killer in those days. 
No wonder Joe runs after the girls. He's his father's son 
all right. That reminds me. Where is that young sap- 
head now? The coast is surely clear by this time. I must 
make good my escape. {Throws the book on the table.) 
Good-by, Jane Ann ! {Some o?ie knocks at the door ; Smith- 
kins in a panic, rushes about the room i?i search of a hidi?ig 
place) 

Voice without. Are you there, dear? Never mind 
about the doctor. Baby is better now. Oh, by the way I 
Hand me out my stockings, won't you ? I earn© awa>^ and 
forgot them* 



HIS father's son 7 

Smithkins (Jiis curiosity getting the better of his ca2itio?i, 
assuming a falsetto). Your what ? 

Voice without. My stockings, of course, stupid! 
You've got them. Please be quick ! 

Smithkins {aside). I've got them, have I ? {Pntti?ig his 
hands to his head.) I really begin to feel that way ! {Pulls 
up his trousers and examines his socks which are of a gor- 
geous plaid) No, no ! Josiah, my boy ! she can't fool you 
to that extent ! {Slapping his leg) These are your calf- 
protectors, Josiah — yours ! {Aloud.) Misguided female ! 
cease your babbling! I swear by every hair on my bald 
head that what you say is false ! Go ! go, I say — to your 
uncles ! 

Voice without. Pearl, please stop your fooling! I 
like a joke as well as any one, but to stand here in this 
draughty hall with nothing on but a bathrobe is no joke, I 
can tell you ! 

Smithkins {aside). In her bathrobe ! Shocking. 

Voice without {sneezing). Oh ! I'm catching my death 
of cold ! Can't you find them ? They're in a flat-looking 
package. I think I left it on the mantelpiece. 

Smithkins {aside). On the mantelpiece. {Hu7'ries 
towards it ; falls over a chair ; trying to save himself, pulls 
the cover from the table, rose jar, books, etc., fall to the floor 
with a crash) 

Voice without {with a scream). Mercy! What have 
you broken ? 

Smithkins {sitting 07i the floor and rubbing his shin). 
My leg ! 

Voice without. Oh, is that all! I thought it was 
some of the china. 

Smithkins {rising ; his face expressing the disgust he 
feels). Oh, no, no! It wasn't the china! {Kicki^ig the 
broken fragments about the floor) Oh, no ! no ! {Limps 
over to the fireplace) 

Voice without. Well ; have you got it ? 

Smithkins {making havoc of the mantel ; throwing the 
various small aj'ticles about the rooni). No ; I'm looking 
for it. Lifts the clock ; a fiat-looking package falls to the 
floor) Well, it takes a woman to hide things. {Replaces 
the clock a?id lifts package) I've heard of clocks in stock- 
ings, but I never heard of stockings in clocks before ! 

Voice without {/mpatie?itly ; pounding on the door). 
Well? 

Smithkins. I've got it! {Unlocks the door and opens 
it a little ; keepi7ig himself ivell hidde?i, tlwusts out the pack- 



8 HIS f ATHER S SON 

age)) There! {Quickly closes the door, hut does 7iot 
lock it.) 

Voice without. Oh, tlianks ! you dear old darhng, 
3^ou ! Good-by ! 

Smith KINS {leaning with his back against the closed door 
and waving his hands). Good-by — good-b}'' ! {A pause, 
during ivhich Smithkins imbs his shin, shaking his head as 
he ruefully surveys the dismantled appearance of the room.) 
" Well, Josiah {scratching his head). So you saUied forth for 
adventure this morning, did you? You're getting it! — oli — 
you're getting it ! {Attempts to cross to the chair for his hat, 
intending to beat a hasty retreat, ivhen the injured leg sud- 
denly begins to act very queerly ; first, it collapses entirely 
under his weight ; then when its startled owner gets it straight- 
ened it insists on remaining in that position for some time, 
perfectly rigid ; again, it is seized by an iincontrollable tremor, . 
jerking suddenly to the right — then to the left) 

Smi rin^TNS {hopping wildly about the room, then sinking 
on the sofa). A doctor ! Quick — somebody lielp ! My leg's 
bewitched ! 

{Enters Miss Tubes, door c.) 

Miss Tubes {speaking as she enters). Pearl, what is the 
meaning of this outrageous disturbance ? Can't I leave 
home for an hour or two without coming back to find — 
{Sees Smithkins and screams.) 

Smithkins. Me, yes, I know. I didn't intend you 
should, but you have. Sit down {making room for her on 
the sofa), and we'll talk it over ! 

Miss Tubes. Sit down ! You bald-headed old repro- 
bate. How dare you ! Walk out of here this instant! 

Smithkins {rubbing his leg). Just what I want to do — 
but can't — 

Miss Tubes {surveying the rooni). What ! Were you 
attempting to carry away my belongings ? 

Smithkins. No ; I wasn't carrying them away. I was 
throwing them away ! 

Miss Tubes {ivith an exclamation of horror at sight of 
the broken vase). Oh, such vandalism ! My rose vase ! A 
gift that I have cherished since my youth ! 

Smithkins. So long ! It was time it was broken. 

Miss Tubes. Such insolence! Sir, whoever you are 
you certainly have an unparalleled amount of assurance. 

Smithkins. Oh, my assurance is all right. It's my leg 
that's weak. {Attempts to walk ; here the^ injured limb be- 
gins another series of performances ; Smithkins hops about 



HIS FATHER S SON 9 

the room, cutting a ridiculous fig^ire ; Miss TuBBS screams, 
interposing' some article of fur?iiture between herself and 
Jiiiii every time lie nears her vicinity^ 

SiNiiTHKiNS. Sit down, woman! And keep still! It's 
bad enough to have one of us making a fool of himself! 
Oh ! Oh ! ( Throws himself on his back, kicking out the 
injured limb vigorously) 

Miss Tubes. Oh, if I were only well out of here! This 
man is certainly crazy ! 

Sim ITH kins. I've got all the symptoms, I know, but I 
ain't ! Oh, my leg ! my leg ! Pull it, will you ? 

Miss Tubes (//f?rr/;f^^; with a faint scream). Oh! you — 
you abandoned old sinner, you I 

SiMiTHKiNS. What are you making such a fuss about? 
It wouldn't be the first time that a woman has pulled a 
man's leg. 

Miss Tubes {aside). If I could only reach the door. 

(Sri ITH KINS lies on the floor between her and the doorway ; 
gathering her skirts about her she attempts to pass him, but 
he kicks out in her direction, compelling her to retreat to 
her corner ; she makes a second atternpt^ almost reaching 
the door-way) 

Smithkins. No, no ! None of that ! {fumping up and 
seizing her by the wrist) 

Miss Tubes (i-Zr//^^//;/^). Help! Help! 

Smithkins. Stop that noise ! You'll arouse the whole 
neighborhood. Listen ! I can explain my presence here. 
I'm no thief; I'm a respectable man ! 

Miss Tubes. A respectable man ! Do respectable men 
break into people's houses, smash up the furniture and 
assault the inmates ? You a respectable man ! No, sir ; 
yours is the face of a hardened criminal ! 

Smithkins. Not quite so bad as that, I hope. 

Miss Tubes. Unhand me, I say ! Pearl — somebody 
come ! Quick ! Help ! help ! 

Smithkins. Madam, far be it from me to forget the 
courtesy due to a lady, but if you don't stop that at once I 
shall be compelled, in self-defence to silence you by force. 
Once for all — will you be still and listen to me ? 

Miss Tubes. No, I will not be still ! You may murder 
me but I will die fighting! {They glare at each other ; as 
they look the expressions on their faces change ; Smithkins 
lets go his hold on the womaii's wrist, falling back a step) 

Smithkins {aside). Where have I seen that face before ? 



lO HIS FATHER S SON 

Miss Tubes {aside). Those eyes ! How strange ! Who 
can he be ? 

Smithkins {looking at her iiitentlj'). Can it be ? — Yes — 
it is ! Jane Ann ! 

Miss Tubes {starting back in horror). Josiah ! No — no ! 
I cannot believe it ! Josiah — a thief ! Oh, this is too cruel ! 
— too cruel ! Oh ! {Falls into the chair in a faint.) 

Smithkins. Miss Tubbs ! Jane Ann ! for mercy's sake, 
don't do that ! Here — smell this ! ( Takes a cigar fi^om 
his pocket and holds it under her 7iose.) She always hated 
tobacco. Maybe the smell of it will bring her to. No use. 
Here's a pretty fix ! What am I to do ! What do people 
do when other people faint ? Oh, I know! — unfasten her 
collar! She doesn't wear one. Tickle the soles of her 
feet! I hardly like to try that. Burn a feather under her 
nose ! I'm a bird, I know, but I haven't grown any feathers 
yet. How would singed hair do ? {Feeling his bald head) 
No, no, Josiah ! decidedly you haven't hair to burn. Water ! 
Water! that's the thing ! Cheer up, Jane Ann, I'll have you 
all right in a minute. I'll go in next door and ask the 
woman in the bathrobe to give me a bathtub full. ( With 
his hand on the door-knob) I'll — {sound of voices without) 
— no, I won't — for my son is speaking to some one out in 
that hall ! My son ! — ^Jane Ann — my son ! Will you let 
that fact slowly percolate through the interstices of your be- 
fogged intellect? In other words, will you catch on, Jane 
Ann, and look a little more lively and evince some interest 
in current events ? Listen ! {Speaking excitedly, getting 
down on his knees and taking her inert hand in his, jerking 
it as he speaks.) My son is coming to this room. I know 
that because everybody comes to this room. Now it is im- 
portant that he should not see me here. It's a long story — 
a family secret (/;/ a louder tone), o. secret! do you hear? 
It's no use ! {Dropping her hand and rising to his feet) 
She is certainly in a dead faint when that word doesn't 
affect her. What's to be done ? {Scratching his head.) I 
can't afford to be discovered here alone with a woman in a 
faint. If she won't " come to " and " go to," then I must go 
do, that's all ! And there's no time to waste, either. I will 
hide her — but where ? {Looks arojmd) Ah ! here is a 
door. {Grosses to door, r.) Let me investigate. A quiet 
room, a dark and secluded spot, where the noises from the 
outer world will not disturb her repose. Jane Ann, I'm 
sorry {taki/ig her under the arms and di'agging her along), 
but circumstances over which I have no control force me to 
the deed. The Fates are playing Rugby to-day and they're 



HIS FATHERS SON II 

using" me for the ball ! No wonder I feel light in the head ! 
By the way, you're not so light, Jane Ann ! You've covered 
your framework with many a pound of solid flesh since the 
days of your raw-boned youth, my dear. ( Voices witJiout ; 
Smithkins continues in a smxastic aside) Yes, yes ; this 
is tlie room. You've made no mistake. Walk right in. 
I'm getting ready for visitors. This is my reception day. 
There ! {Shufs the door on the miconscious female, seizes hii 
hat and darts behind the screen) 

{Enter ]oE and Peari., laughing and talking; Joe has his 
arm about his companion's waist) 

Joe. Poor old dad ! If that bald pate of his didn't per- 
spire this morning, I don't know what else it did ! After 
tiring him out, I finally shook him. Wonder where he is 
now! (Smith KINS j//<:7^'6'6- his fist at his 7tnsuspecting off- 
spring) 

Pearl. Some one has told him about your visiting here. 
And now he'll put an end to it all and we'll be separated, 
and maybe we'll never see each other again — never! think 
of that, Joe — never ! Boo-hoo ! {Hides her face in her 
handkerchief) 

Joe. Here I just postpone that a minute will you, until I 
light my cigarette ? {Lights it) 

Smithkins {aside). Smokes does he? What next! 

Joe. There now, little woman, lay your head right here 
{pressing her cheek against his breast) and listen to me for 
a minute. {Pearl weeps noisily) Say. look out ! Go eas3^ 
won't you ! That coat was bought new this week. Well, as 
I was going to say — 

Pearl. It's no use, Joe ; I know it all ! 

Joe. You know it all, do you. No wonder I can't get a 
word in edgewise. Those people are always hard to talk 
to — the kind that know it all. Well, as I was going to 
say^ 

Pearl. Your father is a cruel, bad man, Joe, to wish to 
separate us. 

Joe. Don't be too hard on dad. Pearl. You see the 
trouble is, father forgets that I am no longer the little five- 
year-old my poor dead mother left in his care. Now in 
tliis Adele Hart affair, he imagines he has only to say the 
word and I will instantly fall at her overgrown feet, and beg 
her, feet and all, but especially her money bags, to be 
mine. 

Pearl. You marry that girl! The very thought of such 
u thing makes me ill ! 



12 HIS FATHER S SON 

Joe. Strange — it affects me that wa3^ too. When I 
remember the clammy touch of Adele's flabby hand — when 
I recall the vague expression of her fishy eye — when I 
think of that fairy tread of hers — but especially, when I 
look at her mother and try to picture myself with that fire- 
eating old termagant for a mother-in-law, I feel ill — 
decidedly ill, and all old Huntley's thousands cannot cure 
my nausea. No, no, sweetheart, in this broad, free America 
we can afford to marry for love, and we're going to do it ! 
Aren't we, my Pearline ? 

Pearl. Pearline ! Do you take me for a washijig com- 
pound ? 

Joe. No ; but I'll take you for better or worse. And 
now, Pearl, no more secrecy ! I will speak to my father this 
very day. Your aunt also must be told. 

Pearl. Oh, that reminds me! Auntie has gone down 
town and won't be back until late. You will stay and have 
luncheon with me and we'll have a splendid — {iioticing for 
the first time tlie appearance of the room). Gracious ! what 
has happened here ? 

Joe. Things do look rather upset, that's a fact. If this 
is a sample of your housekeeping. Pearl, I begin to tremble 
for my matrimonial happiness. 

Pearl. That cat has gotten in here again ! You know 
I told you when I met you that Mrs. Norton's baby had 
taken suddenly ill and that I had gone to telephone for the 
doctor. In my hurry I must have forgotten to close the 
door. How careless ! Oh ! {picks up piece of the broken 
vase) I'm so sorry ! It was ugly enough, goodness knows, but 
auntie prized that vase more than anything else in the house. 

Joe {shaki/ig his head). A mistake to set one's affections 
on the hollow things of this world. 

Yk^v.\. {playfully pushing him aside). Suppose you take 
yourself and your moralizing over to the other side of the 
room until I tidy up here. {She lifts the diffe7'ent articles 
from the floor without i^emarking the dry-goods package, a?id 
arranges the mantel ; the pieces of the vase she places on the 
sideboard, from the drawer of which she produces a linen 
table cover and sets the table for two.) 

Joe {takes out another cigarette, nonchalantly Puffs at it 
while he talks). Mistakes ! How we keep on making them. 
For instance : 

I 

Men think they'll see the stage, now that the theatre hat is 
barred, 

A mistake ! A mistake I 



HIS father's son 13 

They even think that women for men's feehngs have regard, 

A mistake ! 
Did Eve put off her bonnet ? She lias still her pompadour, 
That frizzy, frowzy mass of hair with pins and combs 

galore, 
Is a more effectual "shutter off" th.an any hat she wore. 

II 

Those British yachtsmen thought our cup in need of change 

of air, 

A mistake ! A mistake ! 
They said they'd come to take it back to Albion's shores so 

fair, 

A mistake ! 
Columbia quickly showed them what a Yankee craft could 

do, 
And they hied them home to Britain, a disappointed crew. 
And methinks the cup will tarnish e'er they visit us anew. 

Ill 

A seven-and-a-half-a-week youth goes courting some fair 

maid, 

A mistake ! A mistake ! 
Tries to give her the impression that in gold dust he can 

wade, 

A mistake ! 
She eats his high-priced dinners, wears his flowers to the 

play, 
(He'd borrowed money for the seats in town that very 

day,) 
But she weds the other fellow in the same old way. 

IV 

The new woman, some aver, is a menace to the race, 

A mistake ! A mistake ! 
That to herself she arrogates the all-important place, 

^ A mistake ! 

Men may storm about and bluster, they may fume and fret 

and stew, 
Talk large of their authority and what they're going to do, 
But women still will run them, whether she be "old" or 
" new." 



14 HIS father's son 

V 

Out West they think that silver will do just as well as gold, 

A mistake ! A mistake ! 
They'd like to flood the country with quantities untold, 

A mistake ! 
They tell us if we'd let them run the governmental show. 
There would be no more " expansion " and " trusts " would 

have to go, 
And the richest man around would be " the man with the 
hoe." 

( These verses may be added to, the latest topic of the day 
forming subject for the rhyme ; if for any reason it is thought 
best to omit them, Joe must fill in the time by helping Pearl 
to set the table, she calling for the various articles, he bring- 
ing them from the sideboard ; some amusing by-play might 
be i?itroduced.) 

Pearl. It is all ready. Come now and have something 
to eat. 

Joe. Nay ; Fm above such sordid needs. 

Pearl. Feeling ill? 

Joe. No; happy! {Here a song and a dajice may be in- 
troduced ; Smith KINS joijis in the dance, at its close darting 
back behind the screen just in time to avoid discovery)} 

Pearl {seating herself at the table ivith her back to the 
fireplace) Well, if you'refuse to keep me company — 

Joe. Keep you company ! I will go with you if need be 
to the grave ! {Seating himself opposite her at the table.) 

Pearl. I hope my cooking isn't so deadly as that. 

Joe {gulping down a mouthful). Almost! {Holds out a 
plate of biscuits.) Have a paper-weight ? 

Pearl {wavi?ig it aside). For your sake I e'en will deny 
myself. 

Joe. Pearl, don't tell me that you made them expressly 
for me ! There's a limit to my endurance ! 

Pearl. You don't like biscuits ? How would a ham 
sandwich strike you? Here is one. {Offers it) 

Joe. It wouldn't strike nearly so hard as the biscuit. 
( Takes it.) Thanks ! {Places the sandwich on the table at 
the end nearest the scree^t) But Pearl, I fain would taste of 
the nectar of your lips — a kiss ! — ^just one ! 

Pearl {laughing). You foolish boy! {They I'ise from 
their chairs, and leaning across the table kiss each other ; 
while they are thus engaged, Smithkins, standing on a chair 



HIS FATHER S SON I5 

back of the screen, leans over and helps himself to the sand- 
wich.) 

Joe. Ah! {smacking his lips as he seats himself). After 
sucli a relish even an ordinary ham sandwich — {Looking 
about the table for it) Say! where it is? {To Pearl) 
Did you take it ? 

Pearl. What? 

Joe. That ham sandwicli that I laid down here {iiidi- 
catifig the spot) a minute ago. 

Pearl. Not I. 

Joe. Pearl, I don't appreciate the joke ; for that ham 
sandwich was the only thing on this table that was fit to 
eat. {They I'ise from the table) 

Pearl {laughing). That may be ; but I tell you I never 
touched it. 

Joe. Let me look into your eyes. ( They gaze at each 
other approaching- their faces quite close; Smith kins re- 
places the sandwich, out of which he has taken a generous 
bite) 

Pearl. Well, are you satisfied ? (Joe shakes his head ; 
Pearl approaches the table ; sees the sandzvich) Why that's 
strange ! Here it is ! 

Joe. So I did hypnotize you into giving it up ! 

Pearl. Indeed ! then that occult current of yours wasn't 
quite strong enough. For there is still a third of this sand- 
wich missing. {Holding it up) 

Joe. By Jove, that is queer! 

Pearl. Not at all ; that bite just fits your mouth. 

Joe. Pearl, I tell you I never — ! 

Pearl. Let us drop it ! 

Joe {taking the sandwich). Oh. no, no ! Pll eat what's 
left. ( They resume their seats at table) 

Pearl. And now, /oe, be serious. There is something 
of great importance that I wish to tell you. 

Joe. Pearl, don't get that look in your eyes ! Please, 
don't ! 

Pearl. First tell me — why do you wish to marry me ? 

Joe. Why ? {Gulps down a mouthful and sings) " Because 
I Love You." 

Pearl. I believe it. Now listen ! You seem fated to 
marry Richard Huntley's heiress, for it is to me, and not to 
Adele Hart, that he has left the bulk of his fortune ! 

SmitHkins {aside ; his eyes like saucers). What is that I 
hear ! I wish she'd say it over again ! 

Joe (gasping). You ! — you — ! {fumps to his feet, upset- 
ting his chair) Oh I what a pain ! what a pain ! {^Rubbing 



i6 HIS father's son 

his chest a?id walking about) This on top of the biscuit is 
to ) niucli ! Pearl, will you ever learn to have some con- 
sideration for my nerves ? 

Pearl {amused). When you feel well enough to listen I 
will continue. 

Joe. Go on — go on ! {Resuming his seat.) But give me 
your hand to steady me a bit. Pm all in a tremble ! {Shaking, 
and cJiattering his teeth.) 

Pearl. Do you remember the first time you saw me ? 

Joe. Perfectly ; you were coming down the steps of the 
Huntley mansion. It was love at first sight. That settled 
it ! I couldn't go in and see Adele that evening. You 
never knew it, but I followed you home. 

Pearl. Joe! 

Joe. I did, really. 

Pearl. Who did Mrs. Hart and Adele say I was ? 

Joe. The daaghter of some friend of old Huntley. 
They seemed rather put out when they heard that you had 
had a private interview with the sick man. 

Pearl. And well they might! For I am his niece and 
only living relative ! 

Smithklxs {aside). His niece! My brain begins to whirl. 

Joe. Pearl, I can stand a good deal, but this is getting 
too much for me ! 

Pearl. Just a little more. It seems that Mrs. Hart, 
while in the capacity of housekeeper to my uncle, had 
gained such complete ascendancy over the old gentleman 
that she got him to draw up a will leaving the bulk of his 
fortune to her daughter, Adele. But Richard Huntley knew 
that his youngest sister had left a child that was j^robably 
living somewhere in this broad land, and the more he 
thought about that litde niece of his, the more his con- 
science troubled him. Secretly, for* he stood in perfect 
awe of his Amazonian housekeeper, he instituted a search 
which disclosed the fact that his niece was living within a 
few blocks of his own door. Satisfied as to my identity, he 
made another will, and, with the exception of five thousand 
to Adele and a small annuity to her mother, I inherit every 
penny of my uncle's wealth. 

{During this recital, Smithkins leans over the screen, his 
hand behind his ear, his mouth wide o'pen, drinking in eve?y 
word; JoE afid Pearl ai-e leaning across the fable, their 
faces turned towards the spectator ; when Pearl has ceased 
speaking there is a short pause ; Just then door r . is partly 
opened ; Miss Tubes cautiously puts out her head, withdraw- 
ing it agai7i almost instantly a?id closing the door.) 



HIS father's son 17 

Joe {thoughtfully ; sitting back in the chair and putting 
his hands in his pockets). Well, Peai 1, that sounds like a 
fairy tale, and most people would call me a lucky dog, I 
know, but somehow I can't help feeling sorry ! 

Smith kins {aside; excitedly). Wh — \vh — what is the 
young fool saying ? he's sorry ! — oh ! 

Joe. I was going to woik so hard for you, dear, and 
make you be proud of your husband, and now you spring 
tills on me. I declare I feel all flattened out ! 

Smithkins {aside). Work for her, was he } It's more 
than he ever did for me. 

Pearl {pouting). You're not absolutely forced to marry 
me, you know. I could — 

Joe {seriously). Hush! 

Pearl {ru?ining behind him and putting her arm about his 
neck). Never mind, Joe! Don't let that nasty old money 
worry you. We can give it all away to some asylum. 

Smithkins {aside ; disgustedly). An asylum would be a 
better place for him than for your money. 

Joe. Your aunt might have something to say about 
that. There, another thing ! What will she say now to a 
stranger coming and asking her for her niece ! Oh no — ! 
I couldn't face her. She'd take me for a fortune hunter. 

Smithkins {aside). I won't be able to keep my hands 
off him much longer ! 

Pearl. Above all things auntie wishes my happiness 
and I could never, never, never be happy with any man but 
you — do you hear? {rumplirig his hair in anythifig but a 
gentle maimer). 

Joe. Pm glad of that. 

Pearl. Oh ! I nearly forgot. Joe, you're a lawyer. 
Have a look at the will. {Crosses to the mantel) Auntie 
slipped it back of this old clock for safe keeping. {Searches 
but cannot find it ; begins to look excited a?id frightened ; 
lifts the different objects on the mantel ; Smithkins is watch- 
ing her every 7novement ivith bi-eathless interest ; Joe is sunk 
in a b7'own study ; Pearl ^^zr-^^ an exclamation of dismay >j 
Joe, it is gone ! So^.-'e one has stolen it ! 

Joe {springing to his feet). What under the sun is the 
matter ? What has gone ? 

Pearl. The will ! the will ! 

Joe. Are you sure you have looker thoroughly ? 
{Hunts about the mantel^ 

V¥.k^\. {distractedly). Yes, yes ! It isn't there. 

Joe {looking about the floor). What's this? {Picks up 
the package lying on the table ; examines it.) 



i8 HIS father's son 

Pearl {wringing her hands). It isn't the will, that's all 
I know ! Oh! oh! {half crying). This comes of my care- 
lessness in leaving- the door open. What shall I do ? 

Joe. What's this — a pair of stockings? {Holds than 
np.) 

Smith KINS {aloud; frantically ; staggering into the mid- 
dle of the room). A pair of stockings ! Shades of the 
mighty Caesar! I see it all! I've given the will to the 
woman in the bathrobe ! Find her, Joe ! — find her! 

Joe. Father ! You here ! What under heaven does this 



mean 



Pearl (^i-/^^). His father! 

Smithkins. It means that I'm a fool {sinking into a chair) 
and you're another ! What are you standing there jabber- 
ing about ? Find her, I say ! 

Joe. Find whom ? 

Si\hthkins. The woman in the bathrobe! 

Joe {appealing to Pearl). Did you hear that ? 

Pearl. Oh, I think I know! He means Mrs. Norton. 
She was in showing me some of her purchases when the 
nurse came to tell her that the baby was ill. In her hurry 
she must have forgotten the stockings — but {tjtrnifig to 
Smithkins) what has Mrs. Norton to do with the will ? 

Smithkins {i7i a dead sort of voice). Rverything! Here, 
read this and then I'll explain. {Produces the letter ; Joe 
takes it and reads aloud.) 

Fearl {indignantly). Ballet-dancer, indeed ! Your anony- 
mous friend has gotten things slightly mixed. Mile. Rosa 
lives in the flat above. 

Smithklns. What! You are not a ballet-dancer! 

Pearl. Sir! Do I look like one ? 

Smithkins. No, no! Not at all ! {Feebly.) A drink! — 
somebody — a drink ! 

Pearl {rims to the sideboard and pours some water into 
a glass). Here is a glass of water. 

Smithkins {taking it). Thanks ! I feel ill enough even 
for that. {Drinks.) 

Joe. And you've been hiding in this room all the 
morning. 

Smithkins {breathing hard and jerking out his words). 
Couldn't help myself — You cornered me — this door was 
open — I — 

Pearl. My careles.*-ness has led to all this trouble ! 

Smithkins. If I hadn't gotten it here, I'd have gotten 
it somewhere else. I was looking for trouble this morning. 

Joe. You've certainly found it ! What about the will ? 



HIS father's son 19 

Smithkins {jerking out his ivorcis). Woman came to the 
door — nothino on but a bathrobe — said she was in a great 
hurry — wanted a pair of stockings that she had left in a 
pacl<:age on the mantelpiece — I struck against a chair — 
upset things a bit — 

Joe {to Pearl). See how you slandered that poor cat ! 

Smithkins. Saw no sign of the package on the mantel 
— finally in desperation I moved the clock, as I did so some- 
thing fell to the floor — 

Pearl {excitedly). A yellow envelope! (Smithkins 
nods) Which you gave to Mrs. Norton thinking it belonged 
to her! (Smithkins nods again.) Just wait a minute. 
(Pearl seizes the stockings and rushes from the j-oom, calling 
out as she goes) Pll make that all right and it won't take 
me long either ! ( There is a short pause.) 

]o¥. {somewhat uneasily). I — I suppose you heard all the 
conversation that took place between Pearl and me ? 
(Smithkins nods ; another short pause) Ahem ! Have you 
anything to say? (Smithkins shakes his head; another 
short pause.) Are you very angry? (Smithkins shakes 
his head; another pause) Pearl's all right, isn't she? 
(Smithkins nods) 

Pearl {joyfully rushing i?i, shaking aloft the yellow pack- 
age). Here it is ! Mrs. Norton thought the exchange of 
packages was another of my practical jokes. So that mis- 
take is rectified {to Smithkins). Please do not take it so 
much to heart. There is no harm done. We have had a 
bad scare, that is all. 

Smithkins {in a lifeless tone, as before). No — that isn't 
all — there's more. Miss Tubbs — your aunt is mixed up in 
it, too. 

Pearl. My aunt ! 

Joe. Father, do you mean to say that you are ac- 
quainted with Miss Tubbs ? 

Smithkins. Do you see that broken vase {pointing in the 
direction of the sideboard ) ? It was I who gave it to her — 
twenty years ago. (Joe and Pearl exchange glances of 
aslonishmetit) She came in here this morning — took me for 
a burglar and fainted {pointing to door r.). She's in that 
room now. ( To Pearl.) Go and attend to her, child, but 
1st me out of here first {^'ises slowly to his feet). Joe, give 
me mv hat. I can never look her in the face again {walks 
fo:vnrds door c). 

Pf.arl. Please don't go. 

Joe. Surely, vou will wait and give Miss Tubbs some 
explanation ? 



mo 

20 HIS father's son 

Miss Tubbs {advancing from room r.). Josiah, stay ! 

Smithkins {turning quickly, his face radiani). Jane Ann ! 
( They rush into each other s arms.) 

Joe. Pearl! 

Pearl. Joe! {They also embrace) 

Miss Tubbs. I, also, was playing eavesdropper; and 
thought at first I could make notlnng out of the muddle, 1 
think that now I begin to understand. 

Smithkixs {with a tender gla?ice). And you'll forgive me 
for the sake of "Auld lang syne ?" 

Miss Tubbs. Yes, and for your own sake {retnrni?/g his 
glance). 

Smithkins. And what about these children? {poinli?ig 
to Joe a?id Pearl who are standing hand in hand). 

Miss Tubbs. I think Pearl is the luckiest of girls {kissing 
her). And as for Joe {taking his hand in both of hers), he 
will always be dear to me, if for no other reason than be- 
cause he is his father's son, 

curtain 

{If a funny ending is desired, the song and dance may 
again be introduced) 



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